


A Promise Is A Promise

by NalgeneWhore



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22761574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NalgeneWhore/pseuds/NalgeneWhore
Summary: In a world in which Elide Lochan can only remember that she is someone’s prey and they will stop at nothing to find her, trusting Lorcan Salvaterre, a man whose past is as cloudy as hers is quite possibly the most sane thing she could do.
Relationships: Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Nightmares, panic attacks, graphic violence and death, mentions of sexual abuse

_A cruel man with vicious features held a black blade, dark crimson dripping off it as his other hand gripped a fistful of hair and snapped a head back as the woman choked, blood bubbling from her lips, round like her own. “Mama!”  
_

_She cried out, straining against the man holding her too tightly. She thrashed, moving her arms erratically enough she was able to reach out to her mother but when she called out, Marion stayed silent, her head tilted forward as her body slumped, the only thing preventing her from slipping to the blood-slick floor were the ropes tying her to the chair. “Mama, help!”_

_Her screams pierced her own ears and she kicked back, lashing out with her feet until the man carrying her let out a curse and dropped her, letting go for a fraction of a second and Elide was up, bolting to her mother, fat tears dripping from her eyes as she climbed into her mother’s lap, clinging to her. “Wake up, Mama. I wanna go home now.”_

She wanted to wake up. She could almost feel it, consciousness but every time she reached for it and nearly saw the light above the black waves that held her down, the darkness would sweep in again. 

This time she held on harder, dug in with her nails, done with this game she had been playing for days or maybe weeks. It didn’t matter, she couldn’t recall it anyway. The air she breathed in was cooler than the heavy abyss that settled on her tongue and she carefully opened her eyes, looking down at the sheets covering her. She pulled them back and started at her body, when had she gotten the curves of a woman and how had her hair grown this long? 

Her arms were pale and marked with scars, thin slivers and larger, jagged cuts that had healed long ago. She ran her fingers over the skin, felt the muscle hiding under the slimness of her body, her fingers stumbling over the scar tissue. It was strange, not knowing her body or this room, she thought as she lifted her head and looked around, taking in the simple room, a little desk with a clock and a lamp, a mirror hanging on a wall.

The clock read half past one and the light tumbling onto the warm wood floors told her it was the afternoon. The gauzy curtains shifted slightly under the sweet summer breeze, a floral scent she couldn’t place perfuming the room. Her brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton and she couldn’t remember anything, she knew she should remember receiving these marks, like a map on her skin, if only she could read it. She blinked, hard, hoping something would jog her memory and so she stood, walking over to stand in front of the mirror, gasping at the person that stared back at her. 

Her hair, soft waves that brushed her waist and thick. She turned, seeing her back was just as mottled as her arms and torso. Her face was not the round softness she knew, her cheekbones were high and regal, delicately arched brows that were above angular eyes, dark and guarded. Her lips were round and fuller than they had been before… before whatever it was that had happened. There was a dagger tattooed on her right hip and she traced a finger over it, feeling a sharp prick. Elide jumped slightly, looking down at her finger, half expecting to see a cut on it but an unblemished fingertip was all she saw. She furrowed her brows and ran her finger over it again, stumbling back when she was transported back to that dark room, sticky blood cooling on her skin as hands pulled her away and screams erupted from her throat, reaching for her mother, sobbing when she was thrown into a little room. 

It was exactly like hers at home but something had told her that it was not home, there was no feeling in the soft lavender walls or the soft blankets covering the bed in the corner, identical stuffed animals perched atop it. She knew if she touched them, they would not bring her the comfort she knew, they would not bring her the comfort she ached for, and the feeling that made her think she would die here in this cold room. 

Screams, she heard tortured screams and Elide stumbled back, slamming into the door as she stood struck, unable to stop the memories that flooded her mind. 

She screwed her eyes shut, shaking her head and almost instantly she was back in the present, wildly searching the room as she shook and breathed hard, staggering to the bed as she gagged, hot tears springing in her eyes as she collapsed, gasping as she balled her hands in the duvet, feeling the waves of shadow come for her again. _Run, get out get out get out, he will find you, get away._

She shot up at the voice, whirling around to find the source but when the voice wouldn’t stop, her tears fell, her hands covering her ears as she sobbed, knees barking in pain as they slammed against the floor. The darkness lunged for her and she pulled at her hair, grounding herself in the stinging pain, desperate to hold on longer, she needed to hold on just a little while longer. 

_Get away._

_Go away._

_Leave._

_He will find you._

“Nonononono,” she pleaded out loud, not knowing the house was silent except for her. She rocked back and forth, whispering for it all to stop. The darkness closed in, wrapping around her throat until she struggled to breathe and clawed at the hand gripping her neck only to feel her skin beneath her nails. She strained and reeled as she stood, turning at the click of the door opening, only able to catch a glimpse of snow white hair and bright gold irises before her eyes fluttered shut and she fell onto the soft mattress. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Past trauma, PTSD, mentions of sexual abuse, PTSD-related panic attack

The apartment was cold and still foreign to him after nearly three months spent there, directly across the street from the gloomy looking Blackbeak Manor. He cursed the woman who had made him go on this wild-goose chase. 

The girl was dead. He didn’t know why her uncle still insisted that Maeve put her top men on the job. When he had first heard it, he thought she would laugh and dismiss it but the sum the man offered made him blink, the only outward sign of shock he would show in her presence. 

_Unfeeling. Soulless. Merciless._

Lorcan was her soldier and he would do anything to ensure she was pleased with him. When she was pleased, she was satisfied and Maeve satisfied meant he remained untouched, unmarked by her teeth and lips. He dismissed the memories that surfaced, not able to dwell too long on them. He briefly pondered whether he would ever be able to think of them without wanting to retch and flee from them. 

That fast, he was right back at her house in Rifthold, aching to keep his breathing under control as she drifted to sleep beside him, her sighs filling the cold room. His body was marked with her possessive touch, scratches bright red against his bronze skin, bites all over him, ones she had made with the intent that everytime he looked at himself, it would remind him of her.

He closed his eyes, counting his breaths as he tried to break free of the flashback, drowning under the memory of her touch burned into his skin, the feeling of her lips and hands and teeth marking him a weight he would never part with. 

The walls of the apartment were pressing into his sides, slamming into his spine as he spiraled down and down and down, heart hammering inside his chest as his hands shook violently, his breathing ragged as years flashed through his mind, countless nights spent in her room, each one wrecking him further and further. His stomach rolled and he lurched into the bathroom, collapsing to his knees as he retched, his stomach heaving. 

When everything was gone, when he felt completely empty, he sat back, his skin cold and slick with sweat. He couldn’t control the tremors as he panted and stood on shaky legs, staring into the mirror above the sink. He didn’t recognize the person, didn’t know the man with sickly pale skin and bloodshot eyes, chapped lips and beard stubble where he usually shaved it clean. His long hair hung limply around his face, his granite-hewn features still savage and harsh. He turned the tap on, splashing cold water onto his face before shoving off the sink and stalking into the living room, going to the bedroom off the side of the little kitchen. 

He needed to not be here anymore, he couldn’t stay a second longer in this space, the scent of fear and panic heavy on his tongue as he grabbed his hoodie and checked that his wallet was there. He considered taking his phone but left it, shutting the door and locking it before he flipped his hood over his head and stormed out of the building, checking over his shoulder before he set off to the local bar. 

No one bothered him as he took a seat at the bar, opposite the door so he could see whoever walked in. The bartender was a slim man who passed him the drinks he asked for, his head bowed as he downed them, each one helping to numb the feeling of her hands touching him, her cold body on top of his, her nails cutting into his skin. 

Every minute took him further away from the house he had lived in since he was sixteen, the one he had never called home, not two years later when she had him spend his nights serving her in her cold room, not four years after that when he had killed and slaughtered for her. 

While he had been doing her bidding, not denying her anything, as he performed unspeakable acts for one word of appraisal from her lips, she had been stealing his innocence, manipulating every ounce of carefree joy he had into something so twisted and evil, he didn’t know who he was anymore. 

He drank until he could remember nothing except his name, until he was more numb than he had ever been before. 

Then and only then, was he able to breathe, was he able to shed the feeling of shackles pulling him down and down and down into the frigid depths of his past and simply _be._

His mother would be ashamed. He knew the disapproving look she would be shooting him right now but she was gone and his heart with her and the only thing he had now was the crutch that had ruined his father. 

The night air was frigid as he stalked home, using every ounce of his willpower and strength to walk straight, to be the soldier he had been forged to be even when every shattered piece of his wicked soul was on display for all to see. He ignored the push at his shoulder that bade him to look up, to see what he had wrecked himself for. 

If he had just listened once more to the ancient voice that had guided him his entire wretched existence, he would have seen her in the window, not knowing at the same moment, a twin voice was telling her to watch and remember. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Explicit death, past trauma, PTSD, traumatic amnesia, gore

The white haired woman was sitting in a plush chair next to her bed when she woke up, the lamp next to her casting a shadow on her face that had her jumping slightly. The glimpse of her face that Elide had caught before the waves dragged her down again had shown high cheekbones and piercing eyes that seemed like they could draw blood with a single glare.

The woman blinked slowly, keeping her gaze on Elide. The colour was something she couldn’t remember if she had seen before, burnt gold that looked like it had been forged in the fires of the dark god’s realm. Something gleamed in them, an edge of iron to the flame as she surveyed her, her gaze scrutinizing. The woman frowned slightly at the dagger on Elide’s hip, an emotion close to fear flashing in her eyes before that cool, near boredom took over again. “Hello, Elide.” 

“Hi,” her throat felt like sandpaper and she swallowed past it. Her tongue was heavy and stuck to the roof of her mouth, rough and tacky. Elide tried to clear her throat and the woman stood smoothly, walking out of the room. She stared in bewilderment after her and furrowed her brow as her footsteps became lighter and lighter. With a sigh, she looked around the room, noticing that the light curtains were drawn back and the moon was high in the midnight sky, fat and full, looking like it would fall to the earth at any second. She felt a tug in her gut at the sight of it and that dreadful voice started again, slithering between her ears as it whispered to her the same words it had whispered in her dreams and brief waking moments. 

When she was a child, she had loved the moon, loved the way it hung way up high in the sky. She had sworn one day she would hold it in her hands and the Maiden would rejoice with her and claim her as one of her disciples, young girls who frolicked amongst the stars, danced along the constellations and feasted on the souls of the dead. 

She wanted to touch it. 

It was so close, close enough that Elide was sure she could reach it if she stretched her arms way up high. 

It was not entirely her choice as she swung her legs out of the bed and stood, walking slowly over to the window. She unlatched the glass pane and pushed it open wide, breathing in the sweet night air as it tickled her, lifting her hair up off her neck. The moon nearly blinded her as she stared up at it but she knew the Maiden would fix her ailments if she passed this test of loyalty and trust. 

_Touch it. Don’t you want to feel the moon between your fingers? Don’t you want to taste that sweet milk and honey on your tongue? She’s waiting for you._

_Trust._

_Do you trust me?_

Elide nodded and reached out, stumbling slightly and her heart raced when nothing caught her. Her arms windmilled and she rocked backwards, breathing hard as she gaped up at the sky. 

The voice hissed at her, _Stupid girl. Foolish girl. She was waiting for you._

She shook her head and panted, gulping down air as the waves rose again. 

“Elide.” 

She whirled at the voice, her eyes falling on the woman who stood in the doorway, a glass of water in her hand. Elide noticed the iron nails and her eyes widened, “The window w-,” she coughed, her throat sore and the woman crossed the room, clicking her tongue as she put the glass in Elide’s hand and guided her back to the bed. 

Elide sipped, the cool liquid an elixir as it washed down her throat. The woman closed and re-latched the window, looking up at the moon before saying a prayer under her breath. She walked back over to the seat, her feet silent on the thick carpet. “How are you feeling?” 

“Can you tell me where I am? And how did I get here?” 

The woman nodded, looking pointedly at the half full glass in Elide’s hand and she got the message, raising it to her lips and drinking until it was empty. The woman, she still didn’t know her name or remember her but the eyes, she had seen that colour before, somewhere. 

Elide pushed through the shrouds of darkness in her mind, searching and searching until the voice roared, _Enough. Stop it._

She tried to brush it off but a pain like no other pierced behind her eyes and she reeled back, gasping. Her hands shook and the woman stood, gently taking the glass from her. There was something stiff about her movements, like she had never been soft before. “My name is Manon Blackbeak. I’m a very distant relative of your mother’s. You are in the Witch City, Elide.” 

Blackbeak, the name, she remembered it. 

She remembered the tales her mother would regale her with, grand stories of witches and brooms and wyverns and terrible beasts. Blue blood and wicked sharp iron teeth, a crown worn by the most deserving witch, the one who had brought their people home. A crown that held all the galaxies in the night sky within its confines. 

Manon continued, “We found you three months ago. At your parents estate, unconscious and covered in so much blood with couldn’t tell if it was yours or someone else’s. You woke up long enough to speak in a language so old, we couldn’t find any recordings of it, no one knew what you said. You had a black knife of onyx in your hand, like the one on your hip.” A look of caution entered her bright eyes before it was swept away. “That was the last time you woke up until yesterday and the last time you spoke.” 

Elide stayed silent, trying to wrap her head around what Manon had told her. 

The voice stopped hissing at her and grew louder and louder, in its dreadful tone, _Run. Get out. He is coming for you. He is coming for you. He is coming for you._

_Foolish girl, thinking you can outrun him._

_Not forever._

_Not forever._

She blinked hard, digging her nails into her palms as she fought to stay above the darkness that loomed below. “H-how long since they died?” Manon did not answer her and Elide looked up, staring deep into her eyes, “Tell me.” 

“It’s been ten years.” 

It was like someone had punched her in the chest, all her air knocked out of her lungs as her words struck her. 

She realized dully that she was nineteen or close to it, she didn’t know what month it was. Her entire life had been stolen from her, she had been robbed of everything that mattered. Her own body, it wasn’t hers because she should have been able to tell the stories behind every mark, every scrape and bruise and scar. She should have been able to tell what she had been doing three months ago before Manon had found her in her childhood home but she couldn’t and the fact that she didn’t know who she was, that she was living in a stranger’s body threatened to take her down. 

The last thing before that cold and dark room, the last memory of her mother. That man who had stood behind her as she bled out, his face was burned into her mind and it was familiar enough that she knew that the killing had not been an act of bloodlust but one of vengeance and near insanity. 

The voice cackled and drew her back in, holding her captive as she was helpless re-living the memory.

An arc of dark red blood sprayed as he dragged the blade across her pale throat, the red splashing onto her little shoes, sparkly and purple. A cruel laugh left his lips as she ran to her mother, the floor slippery and slick. 

Someone shook her and she startled, eyes wide as they settled on Manon. “The blade, the one he used to kill my mother, it was black. Black stone, like the one on my hip, it looked exactly like it,” she was rambling and the words poured out. “Please,” Elide cried, “Please believe me.” She couldn’t read the light of Manon’s eyes as she gently laid her back down and she lashed out, digging her nails into Manon’s arm. “I know what I saw. I’m not crazy.” 

She stayed silent, her face like a stone. 

“You don’t believe me.” 

Manon shrugged, shaking her head softly. “No, I think I might believe you but…” 

“But what?” 

“I misspoke. I believe you. Thank you for telling me, Elide. I suggest you sleep now.” Without another word, Manon left, closing the door behind her gently. 

Elide knew there was more she wasn’t being told and her thoughts spiraled as she slipped from bed and paced in front of the window, a lilting tone murmuring to her every time she glanced at the moon so she moved to pull the curtains shut. 

Just as she dragged them across the window, she felt a push at her shoulder and looked down, her eyes falling on a hulking man who moved like a soldier down the sidewalk, the shadows bending to his looming figure as he stopped at the building across the street. He glanced over his shoulder and for the first time, something clicked in her mind. 


	4. Chapter 4

He couldn’t tell what time it was when he finally woke, his head pounding the moment his eyes fell on the gray sky behind the window. 

Though it was cloudy, the sun hiding today it seemed, it was still light outside and he lurched out of bed, staggering to rip the curtains closed, the flimsy linen drapes barely blocking the outside from his little corner of the world. 

Lorcan couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this sick after a night out, always able to bounce back like nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t spent the hours drowning his demons until he could forget that they swam and would find him wherever. 

Every step out of his room had his head feeling like someone was striking a hammer on his brain, hammering out metal on his shattered mind. He felt her hands still on him, every second, every fall of the hammer had him remembering a new night, a new way she made to label him as hers. Nausea rolled through him at the sight of the bite mark on his hip, at the memory flashing behind it, her sheets like silken midnight but cold like the frigid depths of his dark god’s realm. 

Her lips, tracing over every harsh contour that made his body, his muscles trembling at the restraint it took to stay there and not rip her away from him, to not snarl in her face, to not tear her throat out with his teeth. 

It felt like someone was holding a brand to every mark she had ever made, searing into his flesh so that no matter how far he went, there was still a collar around his neck and shackles around his wrists, ones that she could yank on at any moment. 

Lorcan threaded his hands through his hair, pulling on it and using the sting of his force to bring him back from the brink of another flashback. His heart raced, his breathing erratic and chest heaving as he stumbled towards the sink, only slightly feeling guilty at the dishes piled in the sink and on the counter as he stretched his arm up to grab a new glass, filling it to the rim with cool water, the liquid cutting back the cotton in his head, lessening the blow of the hammer by a fraction. 

He raked his hand down his face, scrubbing his eyes as he stumbled to the couch, throwing himself onto it, swearing when the sudden movement sent a sharp burst of pain lancing through his head. He threw his arm over his face, screwing his eyes tightly shut as he breathed past the queasiness and let out the breath he had been holding for far too long, sitting up slowly to avoid setting off another wave of nausea. He sighed as he opened his laptop, clicking on the new email Vernon Lochan had sent them, more photos of the girl, Elide. 

He couldn’t quite put his finger on where he had seen her before, something about her eyes so familiar but not quite what he was looking for. 

The first picture he opened was one of her face and he did a double take, sure that he wasn’t seeing what he thought he was. 

No, no, it couldn’t be her. 

The one they called Anneith incarnate. 

But it _was_. 

Her eyes, he’d recognize them anywhere, the flatness of her dark, dark irises. The only time he’d felt fear in his life was around her, the pure ice that flowed through her veins, no matter the job they had to do. 

He’d seen her cut up men so viciously it nearly made him sick just thinking about it. He’d seen her kill with no hesitation, no mercy as she cut men and women down like stalks of wheat. She had never spoken in all the time he had spent with her, spent doing things he only ever wanted to forget. 

He had never seen her entire face, always hidden behind a mask that covered the bottom half of her face and she had never spoken, just a shell of a girl that had taken too many lives and dealt death like she held every soul in the palm of her blood soaked hands. 

The only glimpse of human he had ever witnessed was after a particularly gruesome and almost surgical execution, he had come out of the bloodstained tiled room to find her slumped against the wall, her angular eyes filled with an emotion so elemental and pure, he believed her to be human as she stared at her dirty hands, nails caked with blood. 

The sound of the heavy iron door closing had her snapping her head up and shooting to her feet, moving past him like a shadow down the hallway. 

Lorcan felt dread settle into his stomach, knowing why the price over her head was so high and why Maeve had sent him to find her. 

He was the best and even still, now that he knew who she was, he was doubtful they’d ever find her again. 

She had been kept as someone’s pet for far too long and he knew that she would fight tooth and nail to keep whatever freedom she had won, through blood and death and by selling her soul to whoever would take it, even if that was ruination itself. She would ruin herself, for any scrap of liberty she could find. 

The heavy silence of the apartment was sliced through by the shrill sound of his phone ringing and he picked it up, knowing who was calling. He began hyperventilating, his skin clammy while his hands began to tremble, a voice in his head hissing that he was weak and pathetic.

_What kind of man lets someone do this to him?_

_How do you look at yourself in the mirror, knowing what she’s done to you?_

_How do you live with that weight?_

He picked up the call and before he could speak, her voice was pouring like oil into his ear, cold and suffocating. 

“Lorcan, dear. How are you?” 

He gritted his teeth, keeping his breaths quiet as he fought through this. “Fine.” 

Maeve laughed but there was no trace of joy one would expect from the sound, no, she would not know joy if it dropped dead at her feet, she had never known it, he knew that much. The noise that left her throat was a cacophony of something that was definitely not a laugh. “Oh, darling, it’s ok. You’ll be home soon enough.” 

He cringed at her calling that house home because it had never and would never be home to him. 

Home was the little cabin he had shared with his mother and sister. His entire life had been that cabin, nestled in the heart of the White Fang Mountains, the forests around them filled with other families like them. 

It was always warm and cozy and just big enough for the three of them.

His entire life had been in that cabin until that fateful day he had come home from school in Anielle to find the front door ripped off its hinges as it hung drunkenly. His stomach had dropped and he had thrown his backpack to the ground, sprinting through the threshold to find every surface completely drenched in dark red liquid, his eyes falling on the bodies of his mother and baby sister, the little girl barely even seven years old as she was strung up, her body so mutilated he had vomited before dropping to his knees, the blood soaking through his pants, sticky and cold. 

A woman he had never recognized had walked up beside him, smiling at him as if he couldn’t see the blood of his family on her pale hands and as though her pants weren’t soaked in it. He had been so broken, so defeated he hadn’t tried to fight her, everything he had lived for gone. 

He hadn’t fought when she took him away from the little cabin to her manor in Rifthold, far too big and cold for a house. 

He hadn’t fought when she forced weapons into his hands until he was the weapon and then he was able to avenge their deaths, imagining that every body he cut, every person he slaughtered had her immortal coldness and beauty. 

“Lorcan, are you even listening to me?” 

He snapped out of whatever he had been held captive in, “What.” 

Maeve sighed, “Is it the distance? Oh, my love, are you missing me?” 

He suppressed the gag he felt at her words, swallowing past it as he ground out, “Yes.” 

“Liar. You couldn’t wait to get away, could you, Lorcan?” She crooned, “Is it hard, not being able to do the things you wish you could to me? The things I did to your mother? You poor, poor baby sister?” 

Lorcan nearly snapped, the thread of self control close to breaking when she said that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

She laughed again, the sound setting him on edge. “You’re a terrible liar, darling. It’s alright, soon, so soon, you’ll be here, right next to me in bed, you miss that don’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“You’re keeping to yourself, yes? No playing on the job, my love, you know that.” 

“The job is my only priority.” 

Maeve sighed, “You’re no fun. I’m getting bored and so is dear Vernon. Have you lost your touch?” 

At that he finally snapped, snarling, “You know who she is and you expect me to find her in three months? She’s a killer and has been let loose. She could be anywhere in the world right now.” 

She cackled, “So you finally figured it out, did you now? That’s fun, I was beginning to wonder if you would ever. You two always worked so well together, it was such fun watching the two of you break someone, like an art. Vernon says she’s been blessed by Anneith since birth, interesting, no?”

“No. It isn’t.” 

“Oh, surely it is,” she insisted and he could almost see her, sprawled over her bed, a viper’s smile pulling at her lips as she talked on the phone. She sighed again, “If you can’t find her soon, I might have to find a replacement for you. Maybe you’re worn out now, hmm?” 

“I’m fine. I don’t need a replacement. I can find her.” 

“Good. ‘Cause if you don’t, I’ll have to think of an appropriate punishment, won’t I?” 

He knew exactly what she meant by punishment and he shut his eyes, pulling away from the memories of past disciplinary actions she had taken against him, each one killing him just a little more, each one chipping at the childlike innocence he still had deep inside him. Lorcan didn’t answer and the only thing that kept him sane as Maeve began listing past measures she had taken against him was his eyes tracing over Elide’s picture, over the face of someone who knew pain like him. 

Minutes, hours, maybe even days later, the call ended and as he flung the phone across the room, watching it shatter after it hit the marble countertop and fall to the floor. He slammed the laptop closed, shaking as he stalked into his room and tugged on a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt, not bothering to lock the door as he left and began to run down the streets of the Witch City, moving until he didn’t recognize the names of the streets and stood on an empty bridge, his throat raw as he panted, leaning his forearms over the metal railing, eyes on the river below. 

He wouldn’t bring her back. 

He couldn’t be her damnation after she had gambled everything to escape. 

He would do whatever he could to keep her free. 


	5. Chapter 5

The sky outside her window was gray but even though a blanket of thick clouds covered the sun, it was still bright and she winced slightly at the brightness as she stood from bed and walked over to close the curtains. 

All she wanted was to sleep, sleep and sleep and sleep until she didn’t exist anymore.

She craved to be blank, to not have this terrifying weight on her shoulders anymore, to not feel like a stranger in her own body.

She was so tired and that sweet oblivion didn’t hide her from the nightmares that plagued her night and day. 

Last night had shown her something so horrific she could only dwell on it for a couple seconds before feeling the need to crawl out of her skin. 

It had started in a cold room, so cold that she could see her breath that escaped the mask covering the bottom half of her face as she crouched in front of a slumped figure, blood dripping down their chest and chin. 

In her hands was a knife that seemed as though it could cut her if she so much as looked at it wrong. The blade and handle were glittering black, some sort of stone, she supposed. She used the tip of it to raise their head and relished in the fear that permeated the man’s watery blue eyes. His lips were purple and he shook uncontrollably, his body racked with shivers.

“Answer the question.” 

It wasn’t she who asked the question, a low, rumbling voice from behind her and she had to stop herself from turning back to see who had spoken, she so desperately wanted to. Elide didn’t merely tapped the knife over the man’s chest, right over his still beating heart. This time when he shook, it was not from the cold as she began to dig the tip of the blade into his chest, pushing harder and harder, watching the black stone travel deeper and deeper as he screamed, his voice nearly completely gone. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know!” 

Elide had shot awake, skin clammy as she tried to follow the dream that escaped her grasp, as she wondered why it seemed like something she had done, the weight of that black blade so utterly natural and _right_ in her palm that she recoiled from the vision of it, not sure it wasn’t a memory because it seemed so real. 

The temperature, the feeling of the tiled floor, sticky with spilled blood, digging into her knee, the sounds of the blade cutting, the eventual silence after the bloodshed was over, it was all so real and still, she couldn’t let herself imagine that it was. 

This room she had been in for what seemed like centuries was suffocating her, every wall closing in until she could not breathe so after she rooted through the dresser and found a soft hoodie and pair of leggings which she put on, she opened the door leading to the rest of the house. 

The second she took a step out of the room, that dreaded voice raged at her, _Stupid girl, stupid girl, he is coming, why won’t you listen, you stupid, stupid girl? You know what he will do, you know what will happen, LISTEN TO ME!_

“Elide? Are you alright?” 

Elide looked up from where she had been stuck in place, staring at the dark wood floors. Her eyes fell on a woman with warm, blonde hair and eyes like shadows speckled with gold. 

“Oh,” she said, shaking her head softly as she walked closer to her, “You don’t even know me, how terribly rude of me to not introduce myself.” Despite not knowing her, Elide did not feel threatened or in danger like Manon’s presence had shown her, though it had not been directed at her. “My name is Asterin Blackbeak, I’m one of Manon’s many cousins.” 

“I -I don’t know, I don’t know,” said Elide, shaking her head quickly. 

The woman’s face grew concerned and she reached out, “That’s okay. Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen, mm? You could probably use something to eat, I’ll bet.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Asterin smiled reassuringly and they walked quietly down the stairs, past countless rooms to the back of the kitchen, the workers leaving the moment they step foot into the tiled room. 

Tiles. 

Tiled floors and blood.

A black blade, buried in someone’s chest.

Elide’s pulse roared in her ears, competing with the voice that still screamed at her to get away, get away and never stop running. 

“Sit here,” said Asterin, leading her to the large island in the middle of the room, nudging her towards a stool as she went to the stove. “How have you been sleeping?” 

She didn’t know this woman, had only met her mere minutes ago and yet, she found herself able to speak freely. “Not well. I-I keep having these, these awful dreams. They seem like almost memories but-” Elide cut herself off, picking at the skin around her fingernails while Asterin placed a mug of tea down in front of her, her own mug held in her hands as she took the stool opposite Elide. “And the people talking, it doesn’t help.” 

A confused expression passed over the blonde’s face. “What people talking? Is your room too close to the street? We can move you, if you’d li—”

“No, it’s someone in the house, they’re always yelling at me, telling me to run and get away.” 

True fear bled through her eyes as she slowly, so slowly said, “Elide, there is no one yelling here. The only people here are our cousins and you, as well as our staff. No one yells in the Manor.” 

The blood drained from Elide’s face, her hands shaking around the mug she held, shaking so much that the tea spilled and poured onto her hands. The woman sitting across from her jumped up as she swore, grabbing a tea towel. She took the mug from Elide’s hands and gently dried them, “Are you alright? That didn’t hurt too bad?” 

Elide turned blank eyes on her, “What didn’t hurt too bad?” 

She stared back at her, her body frozen as her eyes shifted to Elide’s hands, taking in the red skin from the nearly boiling hot liquid. “W-why don’t we move to the study? Manon and I would like to ask you a few questions, anything you can remember.” 

“I don’t remember anything.” 

“That’s alright,” her voice was soothing and calm, warm as well and Elide felt cocooned as they stood and made their way to the study where Manon was already sitting behind a great big desk, talking fiercely into a phone. 

When she saw Asterin and Elide, she quickly said, “I will talk with you later.” And hung up. 

“Come in, please. We won’t keep you long, we know you must be tired and confused about everything that’s been happening.” 

Elide curled into one of the high back leather chairs on the other side from Manon while Asterin took the one next to her, a notebook appearing in her hands as well as a black pen. “Do you mind if I take notes?” 

She shook her head, “No, I don’t mind.” 

The cousins shared a look before turning back to her. “You were telling me about hearing someone yell. Can you tell me what they’re saying?” 

Elide breathed in deeply, steadying herself as she began to speak, “They tell me he is coming to find me and that I need to run. They tell me I know what will happen when he finds me and that I can’t hide forever.” 

Asterin wrote as she talked, nodding her head to convey she heard and understood. “Anything else?” 

She was so close to talking about the moon and the Maiden but there was a gentle presence that told her not to and so she didn’t. “No, that’s all they say.” 

Asterin looked up at her, her pen pausing. “You told me in the kitchen you’ve been having dreams, can you talk about them? As much detail as you can.” 

Manon had stayed silent during the time she had been talking, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed, reading the way Elide sat, the way she tilted her head. Her eyes stayed on her as she recounted the nightmare, feeling that biting cold seep back into her, the hot blood running over her hands, splashing onto her feet. 

If either of them were concerned or shaken by the gruesomeness of her tale, they didn’t show it until she mentioned the knife she had used, the entire weapon forged from one seamless piece of raw material, black stone that cut effortlessly through flesh and muscle, carving into bones like a hot knife through butter. 

“You mentioned the voice behind you, the man who was speaking. Is this the same voice that you’ve been hearing?” 

She slowly shook her head, eyes on the plush carpet below them. “No, this one was, it was soothing. Low, commanding but it didn’t scream for respect, it was like when he walked into the room, all the attention went to him.” 

“Did you see him? Can you describe how he looks?” 

“No. I stayed looking at the, at the man I was killing.” 

“I think that’s enough for today, Elide,” interjected Manon as she stood and shot a look at Asterin. “Asterin can walk you back to your room, if you would like.” 

Elide nodded doggedly, standing on not completely steady legs. Asterin smiled encouragingly and placed a hand on the small of her back as they slowly moved back upstairs. She felt a soft slinkiness curl around her ankles and looked down to find a grey cat standing there. Their eyes were black although one was milky white with a brutal scar running through it. 

Asterin sighed and leaned down to pick up the creature, cradling it like a baby. “This is Abraxos, Manon’s fierce protector.” The cat growled and swiped his paws at the woman who growled right back. 

Elide caught the glint of metal in his mouth, “What happened to his teeth?” 

“Oh,” Asterin used a hand to open his mouth, showing Elide the row of metal fangs. “Abraxos here is a rescue and a very old one at that. When we found him, his teeth were all completely rotten and falling out so Manon had someone put in iron replacements.” 

Abraxos turned his mismatched eyes on Elide and it seemed as though he could the scars on her body, although most were hidden by her leggings and hoodie, and said he knew what she felt. He twisted out of Asterin’s grasp and landed on the floor, sliding back to Elide as they continued to go up the stairs to her room. 

What had earlier felt like a prison now felt like a sanctuary, these four walls and plain bed the only thing she knew for certain. She sat on the bed, Abraxos immediately jumping up and curling beside her, her hands finding their way into his thick coat, a purr rolling from him as she petted him. 

“I can bring you dinner later, if you like, or you can join us in the dining room, your choice.” 

“Okay, thank you. I’ll decide later,” said Elide but there was very little chance she would be leaving this room for the next while. Asterin seemed to sense that as she sadly nodded her head and closed the door behind her. 

A breeze blew through the open window, shifting the curtains that she had closed earlier. Elide stood to open the curtains fully, needing that coolness to wash over her as her eyes fell to the street below and landed on a man exiting his building and begin to run, the same man she had seen the night before. 

He looked haunted as he moved away, like someone was chasing him and she could not for the life of her figure out she felt like the man chasing her was the thing he ran from.


End file.
